


Poison and Wine

by hadfoot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post War, draco fucked up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 11:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16852918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hadfoot/pseuds/hadfoot
Summary: “What rumors?” you mumbled, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.Draco tilted his chin down, dropping his voice not only in volume, but also by an octave. “You’ve left the wizarding world? You snapped your wand in half and have sworn off magic?”You looked away, sighing softly while also nodding. “That would be correct.”





	1. Part One

French might not have been your first language, but it was your favorite. You had always found a certain elegance and gracefulness in the dialect that left you speechless, like pure honey dripping from the tongue of a lover — sweet, refined, and heavenly. 

You were sure that studying the language had been one of the best decisions you had ever made.

Sitting at your desk, alone in the dimly lit studio apartment you had called home since graduating Hogwarts three years prior, you poured over your notebook from this week’s lecture. 

“Untranslatable words and phrases,” you whispered to yourself, lightly tracing your pointer finger over the delicate curves made by your pen.

 _L’ésprit d’escalier_ , the feeling of finding the perfect retort too late, literally translated to read “staircase wit” in English. 

 _L’appel du vide_ , “the call of the void.” A term used to describe the sudden, inexplicable impulse to jump when in a high place.

 _La douleur exquise._  

You licked your lips, eyes focused and unwavering on what had to be most eloquent of French locutions. 

 _La douleur exquise_. “The exquisite pain.” A phrase used to describe the heartache and pain of wanting someone that you can never have.

What a beautiful, powerful phrase, however lucid on your own account. 

You could never have _him_. 

He had been yours at one point, that much was true. You had held him so close for so long, he practically lived within the beating walls of your heart; weaved his way through your ribcage and mended himself with your now aching soul. Even now, years after parting ways, he was right there, buried deep inside of your chest. 

He would always be right there. 

Pushing away from your desk, you rose to your feet, walking the short distance to your open window. You sat on your windowsill, throwing one leg over the ledge before letting your back rest against the wooden side. Shoving your hands deep within the pockets of your hoodie, you looked out over the quiet street, a view you would never grow tired of. 

A cobblestone road lined with historic brick homes, most of which had been converted into apartments long ago, and beautiful trees planted in spaces amongst the sidewalk. The leaves had just begun to change color, vibrant orange replacing green. Their striking hue mixed with the soft glow of the street lamps and the sparkling navy blue sky overhead would never cease to fill you with contentment and joy. Autumn had always been your favorite, after all. The delicious bite from the crisp morning air, and foggy nights spent indoors with a cup of hot cocoa in hand. Perfect. Blissful. 

A ding from your phone alerted you to an incoming text message. You continued to sit on the windowsill, staring at the phone lying on the nightstand and debating whether or not it was worth getting up to see who needed what. After a second chime sounded throughout the room, you decided it would be best to check.

With your phone in hand, you plopped onto your mattress, effectively disturbing the previously unwrinkled blankets and pillows. You smiled as your best friend’s name flashed across the screen. Sliding the notification to the left, you began to read her messages.

“ _Met the cutest guy down at The Connaught,_ ” the first one read. “ _Care to help a girl out? Come down here and be my wingman? X._ ”

You rolled your eyes before typing a quick reply, your tongue caught between your teeth. “ _What are you doing down at The Connaught? Isn’t that hotel and bar meant for classy folk, unlike yourself?_ ”

You stifled a laugh at your own response, the bubbles to signify that she was typing popping up not a second later. 

“ _Very funny. Will you please just get your ass down here? You could wear that new dress of yours…_ ”

You sighed, looking towards your closet where the dress in question had been hanging since you purchased it four months prior. You could almost hear it begging to be worn. Biting your lip gently, you made your decision. 

“ _Fine. I’ll be there in an hour. But you’re buying my first drink!_ ”

Hastily throwing your phone onto your bed, you practically skipped to your closet, pulling the garment from its designated hanger. You held it up to admire it for a moment before hugging it your chest, a beaming smile plastered on your face at the chance to finally wear it. It was a beautiful, black gown made of chiffon, with thin straps and a deep neckline. It was love at first sight upon seeing it in the shop window, you just _had_ to have it, and now, you were so glad that you did. 

“Hello there lovely, I do believe it’s about time we show you off.”

* * *

Within the next hour, you were walking through the doors of The Connaught, high-heels clicking against extravagant marble floors. The Connaught was one of the fanciest hotels in London, and their bar was known for being one of the best in the world. Everything was sleek, shiny, and new. 

Entering the renowned bar area, you scanned the room briefly, almost immediately spotting your friend. She quickly waved you over, and you approached with a wide grin on your face. 

“Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ ,” she chanted upon pulling you into a tight embrace, to which you returned. 

“Like I said, you’re buying my first drink.”

She rolled her eyes, a playful smirk adorning her lips. “Of course.”

You quietly chuckled, letting your friend guide you to where she had previously been sat amongst one of the lavish black leather couches. She pulled you down to sit beside her, and you had to fight the urge to lean back into the comfortable sofa. 

“So,” you started, taking her wine glass out of her hand and stealing a sip. “Who is the lucky man of the night?”

Your friend squealed, clasping your free hand tightly in her own. “Okay, okay. You see that handsome blonde standing at the bar behind us?”

You discretely turned, a head of platinum, nearly white, blonde hair coming into view almost immediately. You frowned at the familiar color, feeling a deep ache within your chest, as if someone had just wedged a large stone between your ribcage. You turned back to your friend, nodding gently. She didn’t seem to notice the grimace currently plastered on your face. 

She squealed again, and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at her behavior. 

“He’s so attractive, I just have to introduce myself.”

“So why haven’t you done so already? Why did I have to come all the way down here to introduce you only to have you ditch me the moment he pays you an ounce of attention?”

She frowned, removing her hand from yours. “Um, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, stealing another quick glance towards the blonde man. “Just…nevermind. I’m sorry. Let’s go and introduce you, shall we?”

Your friend nodded, rising to her feet as she took ahold of your hand once more. You took the lead, guiding her towards the bar. You didn’t look towards the blonde as you approached, instead grabbing the attention of the bartender. 

“Two glasses of the Chateauneuf du Pape ‘Tradition’, please,” you requested, having only glanced at the red wine list for a moment before placing the order. 

“On me,” a voice from beside you spoke. 

Two words caused you to freeze completely as the familiar, sharp voice infiltrated your senses. A voice you would recognize anywhere. You would have recognized it had he only muttered a single syllable. 

You didn’t dare glance to your left, knowing his gaze would be set on you. You felt your friend place her hand on your shoulder, and although you heard her speak, you weren’t exactly sure what she had said. You kept your eyes focused on the countertop in front of you. Your heart was pounding, and you were sure that it was about ready to come flying out of your chest. The blood running through your veins felt like ice water, and you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand to attention at the sound of his voice. A voice you hadn’t heard in so long.

A voice that freed you from your trance, as he spoke your name. Oh, how you had missed the way your name fell from his lips. And his touch, how it instantly turned the ice into a raging fire, heat flooding your body as you felt his hand rest on the small of your back. You let out a breath you didn’t realize had been trapped within your lungs, turning your head until your eyes met a pair that resembled storm clouds. 

His eyebrows were furrowed in concern, his eyes searching yours frantically as his other hand found its place on your waist, where it had always fit so perfectly. You swallowed the lump in your throat. 

“Draco.”

His eyes fluttered shut at the sound of his name leaving your mouth, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed thickly, inhaling and exhaling deeply a moment later. 

“Y/N,” he whispered this time, as if speaking your name too loud would cause you to flee; as if it would startle you like some frightened animal. His grip on your waist tightened just slightly, his fingertips digging into your sides in a way that wasn’t uncomfortable, but reassuring. 

“Um, excuse me…” your friend spoke from behind you, causing Draco’s eyes to snap open, although they didn’t stray from your face. “Y/N, you know this man?”

You nodded, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “We went to the same school and-”

“We were together for four years,” he interrupted, letting the hand on your waist fall as he turned you to face your friend, although he continued to keep his other hand on your lower back. 

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she raised her glass of wine to her lips. 

“Mmm,” she hummed, taking a brief sip. “Well that would explain…whatever that was that just happened.”

Your cheeks reddened, and your cast your gaze to the floor. You felt Draco’s chest vibrate with a brief chuckle. 

“Yes, well,” he started, rubbing circles into your skin with his thumb, causing a shiver to shoot down your spine at the simple action. He never finished his statement, although you could feel his eyes on you.

“I’ll just…” your friend muttered, shrugging her shoulders and tilting her head towards where the two of you had been sitting just minutes before. “Be over there.”

You nodded, your eyes still cast to the floor. Once she retreated back to her seat, you felt Draco wrap his hand gently around your wrist, spinning you back around to face him. He kept his eyes locked on where his skin met yours, head tilted down and to the side. You finally tore your own eyes away from the floor, and upon feeling your gaze rest on his face, he looked up, keeping his head down for a short period of time before righting himself. He cleared his throat, letting go of his hold on your wrist to straighten out his suit jacket, though there was no need to do so. His attire was impeccable, as always. 

“Would you care to sit with me?”

You felt yourself nod without a second thought, and he guided you to a pair of bar stools, where he waited for you to sit before taking his own seat. His eyes never left your form, as yours never left his.

You continued to stare at each other for several moments, fully taking in each other’s appearance. He looked well, amazing even. Beautiful, as he had always been. His hair was shorter than it had been the last time you saw him; brushed neatly and styled to the side. He had some light stubble, which you would have thought to be out of character before, but it truly looked as if it had always belonged upon his face. He looked like the same Draco you had known years ago, only older. Same stormy eyes, same platinum hair, same pale complexion. But, you could tell that he wasn’t the same, not really. There was something different about him, but you weren’t sure exactly what. 

He was the first to speak, his hands coming to rest over your folded ones which were placed on top of the bar. “How have you been?”

You shook your head slowly, lips pursed, meeting his question with your own. “What are you doing here? At a muggle bar?”

“I could ask you the same, although I suppose I already know. So the rumors are true, then?”

“What rumors?” you mumbled, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

Draco tilted his chin down, dropping his voice not only in volume, but also by an octave. “You’ve left the wizarding world? You snapped your wand in half and have sworn off magic?”

You looked away, sighing softly while also nodding. “That would be correct.”

He frowned, shaking his head gently. “Why? I mean, what drove you to give it all up? You wanted nothing more than to become a professor…”

“There was _one_ thing I wanted more than that, Draco,” you hissed, your voice coming out sharper than intended, like knives. 

Silence fell over the both of you, neither of you knowing what to say, but having so much to vocalize at the same time. You decided to change the subject. 

“How are your parents?” you asked, taking a quick sip from your still full glass of wine.

Draco flinched, and if you hadn’t been so focused on him, you were sure that you would have missed the quick movement. 

“I couldn’t tell you,” he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders indifferently. “I haven’t seen them since the trials.”

Neville had told you of the trials the Malfoy’s endured after the war, but you hadn’t been in attendance, something that you had always felt guilty about as years passed. You only justified your absence based off of the fact that the breakup, mutually understood but never verbally expressed, was still fresh, and you were grieving the loss. Grieving not only for the loss of your lover, but for the lives lost in the battle. Your friends who would never see another day, classmates you had passed in the halls for years. 

Still, you couldn’t help but to think that you should’ve been there. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you muttered, removing one of your hands from underneath his to place it on top, squeezing gently. 

He shrugged it off, giving you a soft smile that you knew was anything but genuine. Before you had time to comment on it, however, Draco was speaking.

“Would you like to continue this conversation somewhere else? We could go back to my place?”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at the prospect of being alone with him. Whether said butterflies were positive or negative, you were unsure. Perhaps it was a healthy mixture of both; enough to keep you from doing something you would regret, but enough to drive you through it. 

“Actually, how about we head to mine? It’s only a short drive, ten minutes tops.”

Draco smiled, a genuine one this time, and nodded his head once, extending his hand towards the exit.

“Sounds lovely. Lead the way.”


	2. Part Two

The short cab ride to your apartment was spent in silence, though the tips of your fingers met Draco’s as they rest against the middle seat, almost as if you needed some sort of physical contact to ensure that he was really, truly there, and not just a figment of your imagination. You needed the gentle touch to assure yourself that you had not accidentally sipped on too much wine, and that the being before you wasn’t just a ghost of the man you once loved, conjured by the alcohol swirling through your veins. 

And with his eyes never leaving your frame, you assumed that Draco was in a similar predicament.

When the taxi stopped outside of your dark and quiet apartment building, Draco was out of the car and already walking around to your side before you had time to undo your seatbelt, opening your door as you felt a slight blush rise to your cheeks from the simple action. 

“Always such a gentleman,” you commented, taking the hand he had extended to you, letting him help you out of the car. 

“Always,” he repeated, winking playfully as he placed a hand on the small of your back. You found yourself smiling not only at his touch, but at his sportive behavior. You hadn’t seen much of it in your last year of being his, and it was surprisingly comforting to catch a small glimpse of that side of him. 

Draco paid the driver, although you had been quick to object, and within just a few short minutes, you were standing outside of your door, fumbling with your keys. You heard a snort come from close behind you. 

“You know, I do believe we were taught a very simple spell in our first year that would work perfectly in this situation.”

Your movements stopped at his words, and you felt yourself frown. Your back stiffened as you felt Draco take a step closer, his hand sliding from its place on your back to rest on your waist, his fingers curling around your body, holding you. You instantly relaxed at his touch.

“You really _have_ stopped doing magic, haven’t you?”

His voice was barely above a whisper, and your eyes fluttered closed. He was so close to you, your back pressed firmly against his front. His right hand gripped your waist, the tips of his fingers digging into your soft skin, while his left swept a strand of hair away from your neck. His lips were right by your ear, and you shivered as his warm breath washed over your skin.

“Alohomora.”

Another whisper, no wand in sight.

Draco let the both of you into your dark apartment. Once the door was shut, he fell back against it, letting his hand fall from your body. You took a deep breath, shaking your head as if the movement would help to clear your mind. You sighed gently, moving further into the room to switch on the lamp beside the couch. 

You slowly turned to face the man behind you, and you watched as his eyes flittered over your belongings. You suddenly became self conscious. 

“It’s not much,” you muttered, shifting slightly on your feet.

Your apartment was only a studio, but it was all you needed. The kitchen was small, but had enough counter and cabinet space, with a breakfast bar just long enough for two people. Your living space was cozy, with a light gray sectional and a white brick fireplace amongst the rest of your furniture and decor. Your bed and desk were on the far side of the room, by the large window you loved to perch yourself on as you read a book or wrote in your journal. It was comfy. Cozy.

Still leaning against the door and looking around the small studio, he shook his head. “I think it’s fantastic. Perfect for one person.”

You lifted an eyebrow. “Who’s to say it’s only me?”

Draco’s eyes met yours, his expression unwavering and his body still.

“Do you?” he asked, trying to sound indifferent, but you knew him too well. You caught the hardness, the coldness in his tone, and you knew what it meant. 

You were the first to break eye contact, your gaze falling to the floor. After another moment of silence, you slowly shook your head. 

Draco pushed himself off of the door, taking a few short steps until he was standing in front of you. He gently placed a finger underneath your chin, tilting your head up until you were looking him in the eye once more. 

“Good,” he mumbled, letting his hand fall away. He stepped away from your frozen form, and your eyes closed. When they opened again, your found him lounging on the couch, arms spread along the back of it and a slight smirk on his lips, a playful glint in his eyes. Your heart was doing somersaults in your chest.

You couldn’t believe he still had this effect over you.

Actually, scratch that. You could. 

Once upon a time, Draco Malfoy had been the center of your world. There were no words in existence to accurately describe what he had made you feel during your time together. He treated you like royalty and made sure that you knew how loved and cherished you were. He would have gone through hell and back to protect you, and you knew he would always be there whenever you felt lost, or when you felt as if you were suffocating from the world around you. In the darkest of times, he was your light. 

But, towards the end, the light dimmed. What you once believed had been challenged, and the noose around your neck tightened until you could no longer breathe. And seeing him, the boy you had loved thoroughly and unconditionally, make the wrong choice and walk away from the light, away from you, caused the floor to fall out from beneath you, and you were left hanging.

“Draco,” you snapped, folding your arms across your chest. “Why are we here?”

The man in front of you frowned, raising an eyebrow at your sudden hostility. “I thought you wanted to talk?”

“So talk, and stop being so…so-”

“So _what_ , Y/N?” he asked, sitting up straight from his previous slouched position.

“Alluring!”

The word had slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, but you didn’t feel any shame in admitting that you had found his actions, or if you were being completely honest, everything about him, completely tempting. You knew him too well to be embarrassed by anything, no matter how much time had passed. 

“Alluring?” he repeated, an amused smile playing at his lips. 

“Yes,” you mumbled, recrossing your arms. You couldn’t stop yourself from jutting out your bottom lip into a small pout. 

Draco chuckled, letting out an entertained sigh. “Alright, fine. What to do I have to do in order to stop being so ‘ _alluring_ ’?”

You groaned, knowing he was far from being done teasing you. “Everything.”

You plopped onto the couch beside him, and his arm instantly, almost instinctively, found its place around your shoulders. 

“Well, that might prove to be a little tricky.”

You rolled your eyes and lightly smacked his chest, causing him to chuckle and briefly press his forehead to the side of your head.

“It’s nice to know that you’re still a complete prat.”

“Who, me? Never, love.”

It was silent for only a moment before Draco snapped his fingers, and before you had time to question him, a roaring fire came to life within your fire place. 

You turned further into the man sitting beside you, raising an eyebrow to which he returned. 

“You know,” you started. “That is the exact opposite of what I told you to do.”

Draco only shrugged, ignoring your words and pulling you closer to his warm body. “This reminds me of all of those nights, sitting up in the common room with you after everyone else had gone to bed. You remember?”

Flashes of the nights in question raced through your head. Discarded ties and wrinkled button-ups. Disheveled hair and swollen lips. His hands clinging, love and lust swimming in dark eyes. The heat from the fire and the heat from two bodies intertwining. Those were the good nights. 

But, there were also nights spent with tears streaming down soaked cheeks. Disheveled hair and swollen eyes. His hands clinging, but with a different kind of desperation, fear and agony swimming in sad eyes. Not even the heat from the fire could warm you as your heart ached for the broken boy. 

Those were the nights you most wanted to forget. 

You couldn’t form a response, and you found yourself burying your face into his neck, your left hand making a fist around the fabric of his shirt. He soothingly ran a hand over your back, laying his head on top of yours as he continued to stare at the blazing fire. 

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Your voice came out broken, and you cringed at the sound. 

You felt Draco inhale deeply, and his hand stopped moving along your back. He shook his head, and tightened your grip on his shirt, not caring whether or not you wrinkled it.

“I can’t help thinking that I loved you too much.”

You lifted your head, looking up into eyes that reminded you so much of storm clouds. You felt a lump rise in your throat and tears form in your eyes.

“Why would you say that?”

A deep frown overtook his features, and he slowly, gently, raised his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Because I loved you so much that I was willing to hurt you in order to protect you.”

Your lips puckered as you tried to comprehend. “Draco, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“I hurt you. Because if I didn’t, _he_ would have.”

You let his words sink in, and the weight in your chest intensified. “You did _not_ join _Voldemort_ to protect me. You did _not_  take the Dark Mark-”

“Not the Mark, no. But Y/N…if you hadn’t been standing behind me, I _never_ would have crossed that courtyard.”

“So you’re blaming this on me-”

“I’m not blaming you for a damn thing, Y/N! I’m trying to make you understand that I did what I had to do in order to keep you safe. He _always_ used you against me, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I had let him get to you. You have no idea what he would have done to you.”

“I can assure you that it would have hurt less than watching him _embrace_ you in the midst of a battle, Draco. I can assure you that.”

“Don’t say that,” he hissed out between clenched teeth, shaking his head in a rather aggressive manner. 

“You have no idea what seeing you walk away did to me.”

Draco didn’t respond. He merely kept his eyes screwed shut, and let his hold on you tighten. You watched as his breathing grew faster, his chest heaving with the effort to grab enough air. But you weren’t done. 

“Remember when I said that there was one thing I wanted more than to become a professor?”

Only silence.

“It was you. I wanted, and still want, you. But Draco, it felt like a piece of me died when you joined them. It felt like the magic in me vanished.”

Draco’s eyes snapped open, meeting yours instantly. Still, no words left his parted lips. He was at a loss, and you had no more to say.

Minutes passed it silence, the only sound being the crackling of fire. Neither of you dared to look away from the other. 

You swallowed thickly, preparing yourself to speak, but Draco beat you to it. 

“You stopped using magic because-”

“Because it reminded me too much of you,” you finished for him. “And I’ve spent these last few years trying my best to forget.”

You chuckled, finally letting your gaze fall to your lap. “But of course it never worked. I can’t even look at a damn storm cloud without thinking of you. Or the color green. Or-”

It was Draco’s turn to interrupt you, and he did so by placing an aggressive, desperate, hungry kiss to your lips. 

A second fire was started, or rather, rekindled. 


End file.
